


Babies come from WHERE?!

by Camfield



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Alien Gestation, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-17
Updated: 2012-07-17
Packaged: 2017-11-10 03:49:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/461893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Camfield/pseuds/Camfield
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alien sex and gestation.  ALIEN SEX AND GESTATION.</p><p>Spike wants some.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Babies come from WHERE?!

I am incapable of taking anything seriously. Also, there was no internet in the eighties, as hard as that is to imagine. XD

Fic: G1 - Jazz/Bluestreak - Blowjob = Babies/Mechpreg/Alien Gestation

 

The first time Carly’s cat hacked up a hairball in the Autobot’s base, Ratchet went into full blown medic mode. The cat running away, leaving his newly regurgitated coat lying on the floor as a roaring robot gently knelt beside it. Prodding and shocking the mass of fur for several long minutes before lowering his helm and declaring it inactive.

 

Carly and Spike had stared, mouths open, as he reverently picked it up, murmuring a prayer over it before handing it back to them. His deadly serious voice giving them condolences, and asking forgiveness for not being able to save the hairball, though neither of them knew from what.

What was stranger, at least until Bumblebee FINALLY took them aside to tell them why everyone was leaving tokens on their doorstep, was that each and every Autobot made it a point to come and give them condolences. Optics downturned, voices somber as they knelt in the hallway and carefully touched the two humans on the head. A short prayer from each in Cybertronian, and a small trinket or bauble that was tiny for the Autobots, but was huge for Spike and Carly. They had quickly amassed a pile of items that each were close to the size of a newborn’s head, and weighed more!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

“Bee, dude, what is going on? ‘Bots keep bringing us stuff, and we don’t have a clue why!” Spike was waving his arms frantically, trying to keep his voice down so no one else could hear. Bumblebee looked at him in confusion for a second, then ushered them inside their room when realization dawned on him.

“Your cat, it expulsed a new life. Ratchet told us that that it didn’t survive, so everyone is bringing by presents for you. Prime even has a cease fire with Megatron for the traditional mourning period.”

The humans looked at each other before Carly slowly clasped her hands in front of her mouth. Spike trying and failing to keep in his laughter, sinking to his knees in front of a stock still Bumblebee. The yellow minibot looking at his friend with a disapproving expression before suddenly hearing giggles erupt from the blonde as well.

“Bumblebee, honey...” Carly was twisting her hands together, trying and failing to keep her mirth contained even though she recognized that Bumblebee was actually edging towards feeling hurt. “Humans don’t reproduce that way.”

He looked at Spike, who was nodding his head vigorously, still laughing, then back to Carly, who was trying her hardest to keep herself in check. Teletraan’s information had glossed over mating and reproduction of the native species, deeming it unimportant for the mission they were on. Without references or interest, the crew really hadn’t made it a point to get to know how humans made new life, so when Maxie-the-cat had suddenly stopped in the hallway and started heaving... They hadn’t stopped to think on if mammalian reproduction was different, only that something remarkably similar to their own expulsing process had happened in their midst, and had resulted in a mass of organic material that did not contain a life force.

Confusion must have been prevalent on his face, because Carly calmed down enough to motion him down. “We reproduce sexually. Sperm from a man enters a woman via penile penetration of the vagina, and goes through the cervix to fertilize an egg in her uterus or fallopian tubes. The genetic-”

Okay. He was already lost. It must have shown, because she stopped her monologue and drug a hand down her face.

“Right! You know about our building blocks, DNA, the code that tells us what we are?” He nodded. That he understood. “Well, okay, Spike has half the code, and I have half the code. When we have sex, the code combines and creates a new human.”

His face brightened in understanding. “Ahh! That’s just like what we do! Each partner provides part of the code, and then the protoform materials coalesce and draw off spark energy from the carrier until it can reproduce them on its own.”

Carly patted his leg, a grin still adorning her face. “It takes about nine months for the baby to grow inside my uterus, my abdomen, and then I give birth through the vagina.” Another blank look. “The hole Spike puts half of the code in.” She gestured to her groin.

Bumblebee laughed. “Close enough, we don’t have any kind of opening there though. Coding is received and the protoform expulsed through our intake tubing.”

This time, it was Spike and Carly’s turn to freeze. “Dude, you mean with Maxie, you were serious? You throw up your kids?” Spike shuddered. “That sounds like a bad horror movie plot.”

Carly elbowed him, a swift glare before she turned back to Bumblebee. “Perhaps you could explain a bit more? You, uh ‘expulse’ your young through your mouth?”

It was the yellow minibot’s turn to laugh. “They grow in our tanks, our fuel processing tanks, because it’s the easiest way for them to get Energon. We drink, and they get a bath that they can absorb through their armor. Then, when their protoform is solid and processor just formed enough for survival, they’ll climb up and out the only exit available, our mouths.”

“You must have some pretty small babies man, because your mouth isn’t that big!”

With a grin, Bumblebee opened his mouth, the click and whirr of a transformation process sounding out as his lower jaw split down the middle and folded to the side and back. The armor around the neck moving as well until the only thing that they could see was a shiny, wet looking rubbery tube. 

Spike rubbed his hands on his pants, “I feel dirty now. Does this mean I’ve seen you naked?”

Bumblebee laughed again. “Not really, we all can do this, it’s part of how we recreate. I’m afraid that ‘naked’ isn’t something we’re capable of being.”

He shivered. “I still feel like I’m looking at one of my dad’s old Playboys. Like I’m seeing something that will get me into trouble later.”

“You’re such a child Spike. It’s an esophagus, not a vagina.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t want to do the same things to it. This is creepin’ me out on a level I wasn’t even sure existed!”

Metal moving back into place, Bumblebee used his once again mouth to laugh. “Well, if I understand correctly, that is _exactly_ how we do it.”

That open mouthed look was really starting to get to Bumblebee.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

“Ah don’ know if this is such a good idea babe. We’re still at war, it wouldn’ be safe.”

“Please Jazz? I... I need one, I need to feel like I have something here I can fight for again.”

There was a sigh. “Yah know Ah can’t say no ta yah.”

There was a chirp of happiness, followed by a crash of metal as Jazz was tackled. “Thank you thank you THANK YOU!!! I promise I’ll be the best Carrier ever! And I’ll make sure that they have everything they need, and that they won’t be any problems, I swear Jazz!”

The black and white smiled at his enthusiastic partner, pushing him down to his knees and petting the gray helm. “Yeah Blues, Ah know. Yah gonna be a fantastic Carrier.”

Bluestreak chirruped again, settling back on his pedes. One hand coming up to grasp Jazz’s aft, looking up expectantly. A small panel slid aside in his pelvic armor and a jack slid out. Connected to Jazz by a thin rubber tube, as well as a neural wire, it was relatively thin. The jack end was hollow, but had grooves on it in a spiral pattern that Bluestreak took the time to admire. Rubbing his cheek against it, he carefully clasped it between forefinger and thumb, the slender metal growing warmer by the klick. He licked the hole at the end and Jazz shuddered, hands moving to rest on gray shoulders just under the rocket launchers. Flexing as glossa flicked back and forth across his jack, oral lubricant covering the surface until it was slick and shiny.

“Yah tease.”

Light blue, nearly white optics held his gaze as Bluestreak slowly covered the jack with his mouth. Hollowing his cheeks as he sucked, an unnecessary but deliciously visual that complemented the undulation of warm glossa. Jazz’s visor fritzing as a particularly strong suck overrode his motor control and he squeezed his hands a little harder than intended. The flinch from his partner making him let go, petting the helm as an apology as his vents became more and more erratic.

“Sorreh, sorreh!” He let a hand slide underneath Bluestreak’s chin, fingers brushing the metal that covered his intake and the gunner obliged him, shuffling it out of the way with a partial transformation. Jazz’s fingers stroking the silky smooth tubing, up and down. Light, barely there touches that made Bluestreak’s engine rev hard, the jack sliding to the back of his mouth to touch the metal threading imbedded there.

“Come on Jazz, come on! Let me have it, all of it, I need it! Give me as much as you can spare, I want to feel it mix in my tank, I want to _feel_ when the protoform starts!” Even with a jack in his mouth, Bluestreak’s vocalizer ran. The noises of need and pleasure that he’d been giving voice to turning to a slew of words as Jazz felt the catches in Bluestreak’s mouth catch his jack. The metal suddenly spiraling, screwing itself into his intake. The rubber tube swelling, doubling in size again and again until it forced Bluestreak’s jaw to its limit, fluid suddenly exploding from the tip straight down his intake. Jazz curling over the Praxian with a groan, Bluestreak keening as the rush of fluid hit his tank.

“More Jazz! I want more!”

Jazz flooded Bluestreak with the thick, viscous fluid. Cycling open his coding reservoir again and again to push every last available dredge through the trembling jack tubing and into the gunner’s tank, Bluestreak’s cries urging him on, pleading, begging for more until warnings began to blare on his HUD. Jazz finally giving the command to cycle the fluid line closed, rubbing the red chevron as Bluestreak came down from his own overload, vents heaving as they both tried to cool their systems.

Carefully, Jazz unscrewed his jack, the last of the coding nanites dribbling out onto Bluestreak’s glossa. The gray mech humming, giving the jack a parting lick as it retracted back into Jazz’s pelvic armor, the other mech shuddering at the sensation on an oversensitive component.

Bluestreak licked his lips, resting on his pedes. Attention turned inward as he felt tugging at his spark. 

_tug tug tug_

“Come on little one, just a little more.”

_tug tug tug_

Another tug and Bluestreak shrieked as a piece of his spark was pulled off, phasing through the metal of his tank to spin wildly in the mixture of fuel and coding nanites. Gathering streams of code, material, until they spun in a wild orbit around the glimmer of spark. Each of them twisting in a different direction, spiraling around and around, until Bluestreak felt his perception bow inward and what felt like a sonic concussion boomed from the spinning axis.

The different materials coalescing into a ball with a crush of pressure, the extra fluid rippling and moving as it was displaced and absorbed at the same time into the sphere now floating within Bluestreak’s tank.

He looked up happily, a huge grin on his face.

“We did it! We protoformed!”

Jazz hauled him into an embrace, optics locked on one another’s, forehelm to chevron, and let out a whoop that the whole Ark could hear.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

“It’s time! Jazz, it’s time!”

Bluestreak was running through the Ark, thundering past Spike and Carly’s door as he called out his news. Voices raising behind him in excitement, neither human willing to step out the door for fear of getting crushed by an errant pede. The corridor filling with Autobots as they scrambled to follow the Praxian to the medical bay.

Bumblebee zoomed to the door and let out a beeeeep, wiggling excitedly as Spike and Carly warily got inside.

“You both are so lucky! Blue’s said that anyone who wants can watch, because there hasn’t been an expulsion in vorn!” Carly patted his dash, giving Spike a grin. “We’re happy you’re letting us watch, Bee.”

When they got to the medbay, it was packed. Minibots trading favors for a decent vantage point atop taller mech’s shoulders, bets being made on color and markings, and finally Ratchet yelling for them to be quiet or get out. The boisterous crowd going silent in a heartbeat, Jazz shoving his way past everyone to give Bluestreak a kiss, catcalls and whistles sounding out in the overfull space.

Bumblebee let out Spike and Carly, and carefully took them in hand, Ironhide shifting them all up to his shoulder in the next klink. Bluestreak nodded to Ratchet, then bent over at the waist and planted his hands on the floor. Adjusting himself until he was in a steeply inclined position, nearly vertical, and Carly watched as his jaw did the exact same thing Bumblebee’s had. Splitting in the middle and folding out to the side, the throat metal covering doing the same until it was just an expanse of bare tubing, glistening with fluid.

A clang, a flinch, and Bluestreak revved his engine. Jazz’s soothing hands on his doorwings as they flicked back and forth, petting and soothing him as much as he could. 

“What is going on Bumblebee?” Spike’s whisper was almost absurdly loud, and actually got a dirty look from Jazz. Bumblebee extended two of his alt mode speakers attached to wires, pressing them to the human’s ears.

“The protoform is climbing out of his tank into the intake tubing. You’ll see in a moment.”

Bluestreak convulsed, and suddenly a hurrrrrrrrrrrrrk hurrrrrrrrrrrrrk was heard. Each one accompanied by his back arching out just slightly, his wings quivering until the next reprieve.

hurrrrrrrrrrrrrk hurrrrrrrrrrrrrk

Purple fluid dripped from his bare intake, pooling underneath his helm.

HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORK

There was a splat and a clang as a mess of wet and slimy metal hit the floor. Jazz swooping in and picking it up carefully, Ratchet holding out a sphere of light purple liquid. The protoform was quickly submerged, and a lid locked and secured on the small ball, Bluestreak pushing himself to his pedes shakily, stumbling before he could catch himself and nearly hitting the ground before Jazz caught his arm. Pulling him up and in, their hands going around the sphere and pressing it to their chests, cooing to the small figure inside, Bluestreak’s intake tubing still glistening bare and stained in purple.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

After they had given their congratulations and gone back to their room, Spike had immediately proposed that they try things the Autobot way. Or, at least the conception.

Carly had promptly smacked him.


End file.
